Download The evoluTion of a Campus (1756-2006)

chapter 3
The Evolution of
a Campus (1756-2006)
Princeton University has always been a dynamic institution, evolving from a two-building
college in a rural town to a thriving University at the heart of a busy multifaceted community.
The campus changed dramatically in the last century with the introduction of iconic
“collegiate gothic” architecture and significant postwar expansion. Although the campus
exudes a sense of permanence and timelessness, it supports a living institution that must
always grow in pace with new academic disciplines and changing student expectations.
The Campus Plan anticipates an expansion of 2.1 million additional square feet over ten years,
and proposes to achieve this growth while applying the Five Guiding Principles.
1906 view of Princeton University by Richard Rummel.
In this view, the original train station can be seen below
Blair Hall, whose archway formed a ceremonial entrance
to the campus for rail travelers. The station was moved
to its current location in the 1920s.
Campus History
Starting as a small academic enclave in a
pastoral setting, the campus has grown
in its 250 years to span almost 400 acres.
In 1753, after competing with New Brunswick, the community of “Prince-Town” persuaded the trustees of the College
of New Jersey to select it as the new site for the growing
institution, based in part on what were seen as the pedagogic benefits of a sheltered location far from the corrupting
influence of cities. Land was donated by the FitzRandolph
family for the relocation of the college from Newark, where
it had moved a few years before from its original home in
Elizabeth. The relocation was completed in 1756.
The unique terrain of the chosen site resulted from
its situation “…on the first high land which separates the
alluvial plain of South Jersey from the mountainous and hilly
country of the north. There is a gentle depression between
it and the mountain, and a gradual decent on every other
side of it towards the streams that nearly encircle it.” 1
Understanding this underlying geology does much to explain the experience of Princeton’s campus as a stepping
hillside whose wide-open southern vistas are today obscured by the growth of trees and construction of buildings.
The woodlands and fields below the campus would permit
the growing University to expand far beyond its original
4.5-acre tract—a boundary line still visible today, traced
by the path of McCosh Walk across the upper campus.
The shape of the land influenced architects and landscape architects, particularly between 1900 and 1940, who
made use of its hills and escarpments to create the dramatic
compositions and sense of spaciousness which define the
unique character of the campus. Despite its modern density
of development, the campus still maintains a character
of open views and lack of enclosure that contrasts with that
of many other universities defined by quadrangles. The
terrain also has a newfound importance in this Campus
Plan—which seeks to recover the symbiotic relationship
between campus design and natural systems, and to restore
the environmental health of the woodlands and watersheds
on which the campus is built.
The design of Nassau Hall, which once housed the
entire college, was adapted from the College of William and
Mary, and its collegiate symbolism would in turn influence
university buildings around the country including those of
Harvard, Brown, Dartmouth, Georgetown, and Rutgers. 2
A unique feature of the design was the decision to locate
the building 300 feet back from Nassau Street, Princeton’s
32 The Evolution of a Campus In this 1875 view, with Nassau Street in the
foreground, Princeton’s campus can be seen
occupying high ground overlooking the Stony
Brook, now Lake Carnegie, and a sweeping vista
of farms and open land which has now become
the Route 1 corridor of shopping malls and office
parks. In this period the campus still occupied
its original 4.5-acre land grant, which has now
expanded to almost 400 acres.
The basic pattern of the campus layout, with
rows of buildings following east-west walks
which step down the hillside, is already clear in
this view. Although many buildings shown here
were demolished over time to accommodate
growth and changing architectural tastes, and
many new buildings were added, the fundamental
relationship of the campus to the natural terrain
is still intact.
PRINCETON CAMPUS PLAN 33
Topographic map of Princeton University by Louis-Alexandre Berthier, 1781
Depicting an encampment of the Continental Army during the Revolutionary
War, this map also clearly shows Nassau Hall located on a hill above three
streams leading to the Stony Brook valley below. Though altered by development, these streams are still important natural features of the campus.
Plan for the Architectural and Topographical Development of
Princeton University, Ralph Adams Cram, 1911
This plan reveals a subtle combination of axial symmetry with informal building
arrangements following the terrain. New buildings define courtyards and create
walls around the edge of campus, separating it from the surrounding town. A
notable feature of the plan is its “upside down” orientation —with north pointing
downwards—so that Nassau Hall is clearly identified as the front of campus.
34 The Evolution of a Campus main street. This pairing of a broad open green space with
a building inspired the first known American use of the
word “campus” to describe the grounds of a university or
college, in 1774, supplanting the earlier term “yard” still used
today to refer to the historic grounds of Harvard and other
universities. 3 At Princeton, this marriage of architecture and
landscape began with Nassau Hall would become a defining
quality over the University’s long development.
Today the very idea of campus is synonymous with
American education. As described by John Turner, the
author of the most comprehensive history of American
campus planning, “The word campus, more than any other
term, sums up the unique physical character of the American college and university…[B]eyond these purely physical
meanings, the word has taken on other connotations,
suggesting the pervasive spirit of a school, or its genius loci,
as embodied in its architecture and grounds. Campus sums
up the distinctive physical qualities of the American college,
but also its integrity as a self-contained community and its
architectural expression of educational and social ideals.” 4
Princeton’s campus design evolved with changing
tastes and planning trends, and while each generation
sought to define the look of the campus, many of the traces
and monuments of previous eras persisted. In the late
1800s, President McCosh deliberately commissioned buildings in an eclectic range of architectural styles, but insisted
on a robust landscape and park-like character for the overall
space. Later, attempts to create a sense of greater order
were interspersed with counteracting efforts to create
picturesque and varied spaces and buildings. The resulting
mix, with some areas more unified and some more varied, is
one of the reasons the campus is so appealing today. In the
words of architects Robert Venturi and Denise Scott Brown,
who designed five major buildings on campus between
1983 and 1999, this syncopation has “made the Campus
Plan incomplete and yet ironically whole at any one time.” 5
In 1906, ten years after the College of New Jersey
renamed itself Princeton University, the trustees appointed
Ralph Adams Cram to the newly established position of
supervising architect, which he held until 1929. Although
many of America’s greatest architects would work on
the campus over its history, with varying success, Cram
remains the central figure who understood Princeton’s
nature as an institution, and the uniqueness of its site, better
than any other. He was inspired by the vision of University
President Woodrow Wilson to emulate the collegiate model
of Oxford and Cambridge: “a place full of quiet chambers,
secluded ancient courts, and gardens shut away from
intrusion—a town full of coverts, for those who would learn
and be with their own thoughts.” 6 Cram’s interpretation of
this idea would transform the campus, breaking down the
scale of the University into smaller architectural and social
groupings centered on courtyards and sheltered from the
surrounding town by walls and archways. The language
of gothic architecture allowed Cram to design complex,
picturesque spaces, creating for the observer “the revelation
of the unexpected.”
Cram’s influence was seen not just in the design of
individual buildings, but through a series of comprehensive
master plans for the campus between 1908 and 1925, which
would guide the work of numerous architects as late as the
1940s. According to Cram’s biographer Douglass ShandTucci, “During that time and notwithstanding his other
important collegiate gothic work…Cram created—not just
in his firm’s work but in that of others—what most would
agree is the most resplendent gothic university campus in
the New World.” 7
During the same period, Beatrix Farrand served as the
supervising landscape architect, establishing the distinctive
approach to landscape that together with the planning
and architectural vision of Cram would create an enduring
identity for the campus. Cram and Farrand often sharply
disagreed over the design of the campus, but today it is
clear that the University’s buildings would not have the
impact they do without the unifying power of the campus
landscape—the simple and elegant greens, complementary plantings, tree canopy, and carefully choreographed
views Farrand cultivated over three decades. Many of her
landscapes survive today, including broad areas of campus,
as well as numerous individual trees and her signature “wall
plantings”—actual trees pruned to grow against the side of a
building. Their endurance is a testament to her understanding of sustainable landscapes, a concept which this Campus
Plan has reinvigorated.
The image of Princeton created in the first half of the
20th century is indelibly and lovingly held in the consciousness of anyone who has attended the University or visited
the campus. Despite the rich variety of architectural styles
on campus, the collegiate gothic period continues to be a
defining characteristic of Princeton’s campus identity. The
power of this image is evidenced today by the immense
popularity, especially among alumni and students, of the
recently completed Whitman College dormitories, designed
by Demitri Porphyrios in an interpretation of the University’s
gothic style, and constructed with a deep commitment to
traditional methods of stoneworking and building.
After the Second World War, the University grew
rapidly, increasing its square footage by over 150 percent
by 1980. Campus growth was driven by the national
emergence of the sciences as a major source of expansion
for universities, reaching far beyond the traditional humanities that once defined the liberal arts college education.
Princeton also saw the creation or expansion of its three
professional schools: the School of Architecture, the School
of Engineering and Applied Science, and the Woodrow
Wilson School of Public and International Affairs.
In these postwar years, campus development occurred
with a conscious shift away from the collegiate gothic vision
of Ralph Adams Cram and his contemporaries. Buildings
such as the Engineering Quadrangle, Jadwin and Fine halls,
and the recently demolished Butler College dormitories contrasted with the historic campus not only because of their
austere architecture, reflecting the modernist sensibilities of
their designers, but also as a result of reduced attention to
the landscapes and pathway connections that support and
reinforce diverse architecture and unite it into a common
campus setting. The size and bulk demanded by buildings
for the sciences further departed from the intimate scale
of the older campus; large introverted complexes with
disconnected internal courtyards and blank exterior walls,
Wyman House Garden by Beatrix Farrand, 1941
New South by Edward Larrabee Barnes, 1971
Wu Hall by Venturi Scott Brown, 1983
such as Jadwin Physics and the E-Quad, worked against the
planning of the campus, and continue to pose challenges
today to the vitality of their surroundings.
In the 1980s and ‘90s, development on campus
became more sensitive to context. The buildings of Robert
Venturi and Denise Scott Brown exemplified a renewed
interest in creating a modern identity for the campus that
nonetheless made strong references to Princeton’s historic
architecture. Development during this period sought to
impart a greater sense of coherent identity to an expanding
space, and to create a sense of place in some of the less
successful areas of the postwar campus.
Princeton as an institution has long ago been transformed from its English Protestant collegiate roots, which
its gothic architecture aspired to symbolize, to a modern
University of great diversity with myriad global influences,
supporting the most advanced research and fields of
PRINCETON CAMPUS PLAN 35
The Evolution of the Princeton University Campus: 1756 – 2006
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“It [the campus] was as
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Both the public and the architectural
community have tended to see the issue of
tradition versus innovation in absolute terms:
either the University turns its back on the
past and commits to innovation, or it resists
the new and stakes its claim for the continuity
of tradition. This is clearly a false dilemma.
Technology and society change continuously,
and the most interesting architects working
today are those who look for a synthesis of
history with the demands of the present.
The Campus Plan recognizes that it is above all
the scale and texture of our outdoor spaces
(both new and old) that make Princeton work
so well. We need to honor the past through
scale, materials, texture, and transition while
still building innovative works of architecture
that will effectively serve our teaching and
research needs in the decades to come.
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Icahn Laboratory by Rafael Viñoly, 2002
inquiry. Recent buildings on campus tell a story of the
inherent tensions between the contemporary identity of the
University, the integrated sense of the campus as a whole,
and the individuality of the architect. Navigating these tensions can be a significant challenge for even the most skilled
architects, especially in the storied context of Princeton’s
beloved campus. This Campus Plan advances the idea
that diverse and open modern architecture, expressing the
contemporary identity of the University, can successfully fit
within the overall sense of campus established by enhanced
attention to the landscape and careful planning of the
campus layout.
The Icahn Laboratory, designed by Rafael Viñoly
Architects, is one of the best recent examples of a confident
contemporary building with a strong identity that nonetheless fits elegantly within the context of the campus. It joins
two other buildings in the gentle curve of the Ellipse, an
open space conceived as part of the 1995 master plan by
Machado and Silvetti Associates. A major campus pathway
follows the building’s external structure alongside a grand
public atrium containing a popular café. These features
successfully weave the building into the pattern of campus
life and allow it to contribute to a larger idea of the campus
beyond the specialized needs of the Lewis-Sigler Institute
for Integrative Genomics, which it contains.
If anything can be learned from this vibrant history,
which expresses through the development of the campus
the history of American planning, architecture, and landscape architecture, it is that the Princeton campus is not
a pristine artifact frozen in time. Despite indelible images
which instill a sense of permanence, the campus has in
fact been continuously evolving and changing. This is the
nature of a living institution at the leading edge of new fields
of knowledge, for which growth is a matter of survival and
continued preeminence in the world of higher learning.
It is important to view this Campus Plan in its historical context; while it may appear that the next ten years
will yield dramatic changes to the scale and density of the
campus, they are actually very consistent with the history
of campus evolution. Over the course of 250 years, the
campus has constantly grown. It has roughly doubled in
size three times since 1900, and has seen gradual but
continuous aesthetic and structural transformations and
refinements. Princeton’s campus is simultaneously a site
of historic significance and a constantly evolving space,
a “work in progress” that is never truly completed. This
Campus Plan continues the evolution of the campus into
its next stage, for which a new set of challenges must be
confronted and solved.
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1756
1852
A College in the Heart
of New Jersey
In the late 1600s, Nassau Street
(then King’s Highway) was a
major traveling route between
the Raritan River and the Delaware River. In the mid-1700s,
located halfway along the route between New York and
Philadelphia, the town of Prince-Town provided an overnight
stay for travelers and began to grow along Nassau Street.
In 1756, the College of New Jersey, as Princeton University
was then known, was relocated from Newark, NJ, to
Prince-Town, NJ, with approximately 70 students.
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The Campus’ First
Expansion
Princeton developed into a village with relatively easy
access to Philadelphia and New York. The campus was
organized into an open quadrangle plan with a central axis
and clear hierarchy, with Nassau Hall at the center. The new
back campus quadrangle reflected the high value placed
on the preservation of landscape openness by maintaining
generous spaces between buildings.
The town of Princeton continued to expand outward
from Nassau Street as well as in the Princeton Basin area
with hotels, offices, loading basins, and factories dependent
on the canal and railroad.
LEGEND
Open/underdeveloped areas
Campus buildings
Developed areas
Forested areas
Main campus areas
1 John F. Hageman, quoted in Breese, 4-5
1774
2 Paul Venable Turner, Campus: An American Planning Tradition (Cambridge, The MIT Press, 1984), 47
1746
3 Breese, xvi
College of New Jersey
founded in Elizabeth
4 Turner, 4
First recorded use of the term “campus,”
taken from Latin and used to describe
college grounds, in reference to the front
green of Nassau Hall
1834
1813
Princeton Borough
delineated
D&R canal constructed,
initially carrying freight
as well as passengers
1839
Railroad in
operation
5 Rhinehart, ix
6 Turner, 227
7 Douglass Shand-Tucci, Ralph Adams Cram: An Architect’s Four Quests (Amherst and Boston, University of Massachusetts Press, 2005), 50
36 The Evolution of a Campus 1696
Town of Prince-Town
settled
1756
Set on a protected topographic ridge, Nassau Hall was the
largest academic building in the colonies and had an expansive
panorama of farmland and forested valley to the south.
1801
1830
1838
Route 1 built
Joseph Henry suggested a symmetrical
back campus quadrangle with two new
dormitories and new buildings for the
debating societies, Whig and Clio.
Mercer County
and Princeton
Township delineated
1852
PRINCETON CAMPUS PLAN 37
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A major building program in the early 20th century was
initiated by President Woodrow Wilson (1901-1912) and
overseen by Ralph Adams Cram, supervising architect. In
addition to new buildings, Lake Carnegie was created and
the railroad (Dinky) station was relocated to the south.
Princeton was one of the first universities to undertake
a master plan for its future growth. Wilson and Cram
shared a vision for the campus that shifted away from the
McCosh era’s outward-looking and expansive landscape
to a more enclosed arrangement of buildings, influenced
by the architecture and scholarly seclusion of Oxford and
Cambridge and emphasizing academic discourse among
faculty and students.
Princeton Borough and Township settlements continued to grow with new residential areas west of the golf
course and east of FitzRandolph Road. As the Dinky station
moved south, many residential properties along Alexander
Street were transformed for industrial and warehouse uses
dependent on rail transportation.
legenD
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Athleticfields
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Campusbuildings
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1896
official name changed to
“Princeton university.”
Collegiate gothic adopted
as official architectural style
1879
ivy Club, the first
eating club, established
1897
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38 The Evolut ion of a Ca m pu s
2006
The resulT of raPiD
growTh anD exPansion
The combined effects of the Great
Depression and World War II resulted in a 14-year building hiatus at
Princeton (1933-1947). Due largely
to increased government funding
for laboratory buildings, a major and
rapid campus expansion occurred
in the 1960s which pushed the campus boundary farther
to the south and located major academic facilities east of
Washington Road, including the engineering school. By 1951
collegiate gothic was no longer the official architectural style
“due to cost and other factors” and Princeton University,
like Oxford, Cambridge, and other American universities,
intended to build in a “contemporary” style.
The township and borough of Princeton also experienced a building boom after World War II. In the decade
from 1950 to 1960, the population of the township doubled.
By the 1970s the area was heavily populated and many new
streets were created.
1913
1962
1970s
Role of supervising architect
created—first filled by
Ralph Adams Cram
graduate college built on golf course site,
rather than south of McCosh Walk as
President Woodrow Wilson proposed
The construction of the Engineering
Quadrangle buildings solidified the campus’
presence east of Washington Road.
The expansion of the campus
toward the south and east marked
a shift in its scale and character.
1911
1920s
Lake Carnegie dedicated
Ralph Adams Cram proposed a
north-south axis from Nassau Hall to
divide the campus into residential and
academic zones. (Not completed)
Dinky station
moved south
1927
1969
Trustees vote to admit women
undergraduates
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growing anD
greening The camPus
Since the 1970s the campus has
continued to grow, infilling to
maintain walkability, bringing
innovative architecture to complement the historic buildings,
and sustaining its landscapes
and natural resources. Still recognized around the world for
its impressive, eclectic mix of architecture and beautiful
gardens, greens, and natural areas, the campus of tomorrow
will have to meet the needs of the evolving institution while
maintaining the historic beauty of the campus.
The township and borough of Princeton have a population of just over 30,000 people. In addition the University,
the area is home to the Institute for Advanced Study, the
Princeton Theological Seminary, and the Westminster Choir
College. Its equidistant location from Philadelphia and New
York City, coupled with historic charm and cultural and
educational amenities, has made it a very desirable place
to live and work.
1907
1906
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During the second half of the 19th
century, President James McCosh
(1868-1888) and President Francis
Patton (1888-1902) oversaw a period
of rapid building expansion that favored
a more park-like setting for buildings,
placing less importance on axes and symmetry than previous styles. The Victorian style of architecture provided
an organic approach that complemented this landscape
philosophy. This change of style coincided with a pedagogic
shift from the fixed curriculum of a small Protestant college
to a more modern concept of a university.
The town of Princeton continued to expand, surrounding the campus on three sides. The railroad station, still in
its original northern location near Blair Hall, provided the
gateway to the town as well as the University.
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Collegiate gothic
is a “return step by
step to the old ideals
and sound methods
of English colleges...
to those...eternally
enduring principles
in life and thought
and aspiration...”
1975
1982
system of residential colleges
established
2006
P RIN C ETON CA MP U S P LA N
39
Campus Growth
by 2016
The line graph below charts the growth of Princeton
University in terms of building square footage and student
population from 1900 to the start of the Campus Plan in
2006. The graph also projects the same data from 2006
to 2016 based on planned projects and future
recommendations.
As the graph shows, the sizes of the physical plant and
student population have increased steadily over the past
century, but there are two periods of more rapid growth.
The first period occurred in the 1960s with the boom in
Cold War scientific research and funding. During this time,
the construction of new and larger research facilities was
accompanied by an increase in the graduate and undergraduate student populations. The second period of rapid
growth began in the 1990s and continues to 2016. Though
not as steep as it was mid-century, the last two decades of
growth have expanded the size of the institution by almost
40 percent.
The early part of the 20th century saw building area
and student population growing at similar rates, but that no
longer holds true after 1960. Whereas the ratio of building
area to population in 1940 was about 1,000 square feet
per student, in 2016 it will approach 1,600 square feet
per student.
Why is building area growing at a significantly higher
rate than the student population? It is partly because
modern academic and research buildings are larger than
their historic counterparts. Furthermore, a modern campus
requires more than just academic and residential buildings;
it must provide its population with a variety of infrastructural and support facilities that contribute to campus life
and the efficient operation of a large institution.
In the ten years from 2006 to 2016 the campus is
projected to expand by an additional 2.1 million square
feet—not as much as the record-setting decade of the
1960s, but very likely the second most intensive decade
of growth in the history of the institution. The lesson of the
1960s for today is that periods of substantial growth need
careful planning to ensure that the additions enhance the
campus setting rather than detract from it, and that the
impacts on the environment and the surrounding community are well understood and thoughtfully addressed.
Balancing our desire to preserve the intimate yet
majestic nature of Princeton’s campus while meeting
the needs of what is actually a very large and growing
university was one of the most interesting challenges
presented by the campus planning process. I believe
that our neighborhood approach, and our landscape
plan, were key factors in our ability to address this
challenge successfully.
—Karen Magee,
Chair of the Trustee Committee on Grounds and Buildings
Facility square footage
Student population
13,000,000
13,000
2006-2016
2.1 mil GSF
21% growth
1963
Douglas Orr Campus Plan
1901
Founding of the
Graduate School
1905
President Wilson
introduces
preceptorial system
1911
Ralph
Adams Cram
Master Plan
1919
Founding of the
Architecture School
1951
Forrestal Research
Center opens
1982
Five residential
colleges established
1969
Undergraduate
women admitted
10,000,000
10,000
9,000,000
9,000
8,000,000
8,000
1958-1968
2.7 mil GSF
70% growth
1941
Start of US involvement
in World War II
7,000,000
7,000
6,000,000
6,000
5,000,000
5,000
1918
End of
World War I
LEGEND
Total student population
1921
Founding of the
Engineering
School
1930
Founding of the
Woodrow Wilson School
11,000,000
11,000
1996-2006
1.4 mil GSF
17% growth
1996-2006
Machado & Silvetti
Campus Plan
1960
U.S. government
doubles funding
for research
at Princeton
12,000,000
12,000
4,000,000
4,000
Undergraduate student
population
3,000,000
3,000
Graduate student population
Academic, administrative,
and athletic square footage
Residenial building square footage
Off-campus building square footage
(not including off-campus rental housing)
40 The Evolution of a Campus 2,000,000
2,000
2006
1900
1905
1910
1915
1920
1925
1930
1935
1940
1945
1950
1955
1960
1965
1970
1975
1980
1985
1990
1995
2000
2005
1,000,000
1,000
2010
2015
PRINCETON CAMPUS PLAN 41
Blair Hall and Buyers Hall
the challenge of campus planning and design
Planning is so difficult because—at least in the early
years of an institution’s life—it seems so easy. We take
the first steps naively, not quite realizing that each of
them is full of consequence and will make every following move much more complicated. If the institution
is lucky and alert, it may be able to turn future complexities into imaginative possibilities and perhaps even
realities. But every successive intervention makes the
design of the whole—if there still is one—more intricate. If we began, long ago, walking on air, we will
almost certainly discover that, much later, we are
pressed to invent new and surprising high-wire acts
time after time.
The most difficult planning problem for an institution is to decide what its visible architectural and natural
universe should “look like.” If there is to be an incarnation, one must first of all seek its character and meaning,
and then try to express its significance in tangible shapes
and forms that might possibly suffice.
Princeton was the first college or university to have
had the term “campus” associated with it. And once the
term was there, it began—inevitably—to impose itself
on the college and to demand a response and definition.
It obviously implied that Princeton would be a separate
place with its own boundaries and distinct identity—
rather than an institution whose buildings were interspersed with the town and its residential neighborhoods.
It would be an enclave; but “campus”—literally a field—
also indicated something more open (and different
from) the closed, walled and protected place of (for
instance) an Oxford college.
When we press further, however, we are still left
to discover what might be meant when the words
campus, college, and university are brought together in
conjunction. Which images—of architecture, landscape,
textures, space, and sky—would satisfy so hopeful a
vision and ideal? Scott Fitzgerald’s “dreaming towers”?
Auden’s “careless beauty” in “a green county”? Zuleika’s
“multitudinous quadrangles” that were “venerable,
magical, and enduring”? Waugh’s “unwearied sinews,
sequestered mind” inhabiting an idyllic collegiate world
designed for youth’s “zest, generous affections, illusions,
and despair”?
Once Nassau Hall—then the largest academic
building in the colonies—had been placed parallel to
the town’s main thoroughfare, but rather set back—with
42 The Evolution of a Campus a modest “campus” or field in front—then some hint
of a design, certainly not a plan, was already in place.
The fact that the new hall stretched itself longitudinally,
suggested that Princeton’s buildings might traverse its
grounds in lengths and lines, as much as they would
cluster in quads and cloisters.
Nassau Hall also seemed to declare that we would
construct our buildings, not in colonial wood, but in
variegated, home-grown, somewhat rusticated stone.
We would be sturdy and impressive. We would invite
perambulation. We would also care about landscape
and space as much as about structures; indeed, the
patterning and dynamics of their continuous interplay
would, perhaps, matter most of all.
We know what happened afterward. The campus
eventually became one of the most potent American
images of what a college or university seeks to embody
and express. It represents, of course, only one possible
set of meanings among many, but it is a particularly
powerful set, reaching back—as it does—to medieval
gothic emblems of spiritual aspiration, intellectual
intensity, and a sufficient separation from the world of
affairs to create a cosmos with its own conceptions of
time, labor, ease, and achievement.
If that image is now more complicated than it was—
with an admixture of modern buildings and textures,
new fields and modes of knowledge, and a greater
range of activities and complex services—that is simply
because our own lives, our world, and our realities have
necessarily altered in so many ways. But to Princeton’s
credit and honor, its aspirations and convictions concerning the fundamental nature and purposes of a
university have admitted no impediments or alterations
at all.
Princeton has just completed the most comprehensive, rigorous, and successful planning process in its
entire history. For those of us who were involved in such
ventures 20 (and even 30 or 35) years ago, the current
effort has (with no hint of invidiousness) adroitly
ex-posed the cheerful amateurism of all our earlier
youthful tinkering and fiddling.
Did we really once build Spelman Halls, a new
indoor Olympic-size swimming pool, a molecular
biology building, Wu Hall, and any number of other
structures without much concern about anything except
the “program,” the architecture, the site, and the cost?
Now, given the very substantial growth—over
recent decades—of the population in the entire Princeton region, we know that the general lack of access
roads, the traffic congestion, the pressure on community
green space—and countless other considerations—can
make any new construction (or analogous event) the
trigger for an immediate chain reaction of innumerable
problems and perplexities.
Shall we add a modest new wing to an equally
modest academic building? But even the two or three
dozen additional people in the new wing will need parking spaces—and the building will require electricity and
heat (and air-conditioning) which will in turn strain the
central steam plant slightly more. There will also be a
slightly larger crowd in the lunchroom, the physical-fitness room, and the restroom. One can certainly manage
for now—but later?
If we build, not a modest wing, but new high-intensity buildings for chemistry and neuroscience, with
dozens and dozens more people, then there will be
a far greater impact on the community, the campus,
the energy supply, waste disposal, the ozone layer,
the stream beds leading to Lake Carnegie, the stormwater catch basins, the shuttle service, parking lots, the
cicadas, and the possible need for more traffic lights or
pedestrian bridges on Washington Road. All these (and
other) mundane items are—in effect—the atomic and
sub-atomic particles that constitute the deep structure
of our campus, and each has enough velocity and charge
to affect even the least obvious of its neighbors, jostling
and jolting them, unless we prove to be sufficiently
astute in our planning to provide enough room for each,
with comfortable cushions to serve as shock absorbers.
The trick in planning has been to pay the greatest
possible attention to what we call our (and everyone
else’s) infrastructure, so that all the new outer structures
and superstructures which the University may build
in the future can shine forth in ways that enhance
our sustaining vision of the campus and its meaning.
Fortunately, the recent comprehensive process, led by
President Tilghman and the University’s exceptional
consultants, has done precisely that. As a result, when
the next round of buildings and pathways and plantings
has been completed, everything will seem composed,
enduring, and also animated by youth and zest once
again. All our streams will continue to run brightly
down their stream beds toward the brimful waters of
Lake Carnegie, beneath all those dreaming—and also
wakeful—towers.
Neil Rudenstine
Former provost and former chair of the
Trustee Committee on Grounds and Buildings
PRINCETON CAMPUS PLAN 43
NEW CHALlenges
Increasing Density Without Losing Open Space
Princeton’s “park-like” character is one of the most highly valued qualities of the campus by both the University community and the residents of the surrounding town. New buildings of increasing scale, parking garages, and infrastructure must be added while minimizing impacts on
open space, natural features, and vistas of greenery.
The particular physical characteristics of the Princeton campus create unique
challenges that distinguish this planning effort from those of other universities. The
topography and ecology of the campus setting, its historic patterns of growth, and the
evolution of the campus and community edge have created problematic conditions
today that can either be exacerbated or repaired by new development. Each of these
challenges is intensified by the increasing size of the functional area of the campus—
the setting for the daily life of students, faculty, and staff.
A paved and isolated “open space” in Jadwin Courtyard
Unifying Disparate campus Areas
Over 250 years, campus neighborhoods have developed with widely
varying styles of architecture, some of which lack coherent relationships
between buildings. Recently completed buildings continue to express a
wide range of architectural styles, a trend which will continue in the next
ten years. This aesthetic diversity must nonetheless be integrated into a coherent whole.
Creating a More Welcoming Campus
Princeton University receives more than 700,000 visitors each year. While
Nassau Street is the University’s traditional front, most visitors today arrive
by car at what is clearly the back of campus, and find themselves in a distant
and disorienting location with few directions. Once within the historic core,
the intricate character that makes the campus beautiful also makes it confusing and difficult to navigate.
The different architectural styles of Spelman Halls and Whitman College
Growing Sustainably
The plan to concentrate growth in a limited space has significant environmental benefits, from the protection of surrounding open land to the
reduction of driving between destinations on campus. At the same time, the
local impacts of buildings on the natural features and underlying watersheds
of campus are greater, and the ever-increasing energy demands of new
buildings for the sciences and other uses make environmentally sustainable
development a significant challenge.
An unmarked and uninviting campus entrance at Lot 7 garage
Connecting the Whole of Campus,
from the Core to the Edges
Although the historic core is highly walkable, more modern campus neighborhoods have fewer pathways and are more isolated from the center and
from each other. Faculty in the E-Quad, for example, are disconnected from
their colleagues in the natural sciences. To be truly pedestrian-oriented, the dense pathway network of the core must be extended across gaps and
into outlying areas of campus.
Elm Drive stream erosion
AddressING Impacts of Growth at the Edges
In the next ten years and beyond, campus growth will move increasingly to
the edges of the campus, as this is the location of much of the remaining
available campus land, and some of this growth will occur at points where
the University meets the surrounding community. This means that the success of the plan will rely on a productive and sustained dialogue
between campus and community.
A lack of campus character around Hoyt Lab
Traffic backed up at a nexus of campus and community
44 The Evolution of a Campus PRINCETON CAMPUS PLAN 45